


Summer Skin

by widovvmakers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widovvmakers/pseuds/widovvmakers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb was the king in his castle, and California was his kingdom. Sansa liked to be a princess, didn't know a small change would make her find out she likes princesses better than princes. While she didn't know exactly what she wanted, King Robb was used to getting it whenever he wanted, and the step brother entering his life - and his room - was not a welcome change. Jon is a stranger to the new town, and he's not too interested in getting to know the place, or his new roomate. But there is a thin line between love and hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He was new in town, the boy with eager eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, I'm back. I don't know if anyone cares of even remembers it, but I am!  
> You can find me at @milkovicchs on twitter, if you like. And also want to give a special thanks to Giulia, because she's literally the co-pilot of this story. She even wrote the summary! And that's basically it, goodbye.

Robb loved his bedroom. It was his, completely and absolutely his. It has his drawings on the wall, wolves ripping each other apart, howling at the moon, even pups playing together. He could leave his dirty underwear on the floor and he could watch his porn whenever he wanted. He was truly living the dream. His younger sisters and brothers had to share a room, but he had one all for himself. He could almost hear Sansa and Arya fighting something stupid across the hall and Rickon crying because Bran kicked him. If this were an ordinary day, Robb would stretch his arms behind his head and smile loosely. However, it wasn’t a normal day. There was another bed in his room, where his desk was supposed to be. The mattress still naked - Robb hoped that his recently acquired brother brought his own pillow because he wasn’t borrowing shit to the new kid. He was sitting on his chair in front of his desk, but the chair was in the wrong place because the desk was in the wrong place because the bed was in the desk’s fucking place. Because he had a new brother. Half brother, step brother, fake brother. Because his mom’s boyfriend was moving in. Y-fucking-ay.  
  
Yes, he was happy for her. The guy was nice. Way nicer than their father, he could say that, but he couldn’t help but think that the last thing their family needed was a new father – or a new brother. Robb wished he could say his father died in a war when he was a baby, but that wasn’t the truth. He left, yes, but not because the country was begging him to, or because he needed to. He did it because he was tired. Of his mother, of them. He left his mom pregnant and with two small kids, and Robb was in his sophomore year of high school. He wouldn’t admit it to no one nowadays, but they got lost. His mom couldn’t work because of the pregnancy, and Robb lost his hero. It was hard. His aunt, Lysa, and his uncle Petyr – even though he wasn’t really his uncle – helped them for months. Robb wasn’t a big fan of them, but he didn’t dare to complain. Lysa was too loud, too attached to her son and too bossy for him to like her, and Petyr… Well, Petyr was creepy. There wasn’t another way to describe it. The point was: they got around. His mom didn’t need help from anyone. Especially not help from a man from motherfucking Chicago and his sorry excuse of a son.  
  
He groaned again, looking around and wondering what his roommate – that was pathetic, he was going to have a roommate before he went to college – would want to put on his side of the bedroom. Fuck. Why couldn’t his mother date a man that didn’t have kids? However, he knew his mom wasn’t a big fun of her new acquired son. Jon had a collection of nasty habits. Failing school, smoking, not keeping his mouth shut when he was fucking boys, yes, boys, on the room next door to his father’s. Not that fucking boys was a problem to Robb – he liked boys just as much he liked girls – but he wasn’t the type of person who went rubbing his sexuality in people’s face, let alone his parents.  
And then he heard it. A car passing by, and stopping in front of his place. People talking over each other, his mom saying hello, doors opening and then, and his mom calling him. He got up, groaning again, opening his door and going to the hallway.  
  
“Stop acting like it’s a death sentence, Robb.” Arya said, passing through him with a box full of clothes in her hands and going to their mom’s room. Now it was their mom and Ned’s room. Robb felt like he could puke.  
  
“Easy for you to say that, you’re not getting a roommate!” he said. He was supposed to go down the stairs when his other sister, Sansa, passed through him, her hair high in a bun and wearing her favorite sundress. She also had a box of clothes on her hands, but she wasn’t going to their mom’s room.  
  
“She always had a roommate, idiot.” She said, diverting him and going to his bedroom. “And so had all of us.” Arya appeared again, empty headed, a smile playing on her lips.  
  
“Mum said it’s your practice for college.” He heard both of the girls laughing and rolled his eyes, going downstairs. Sansa and Arya shared a room every since… Well, forever. They acted as if they were completely different – Sansa with all of her jewelry and sundresses and Arya with her refusal to wear skirts and the only earring she used on her own free will was a piercing that their mom made her take off – but they were incredibly alike. Of course, Robb couldn’t say that without getting smacked on the head by the younger, so he kept quiet about it.  
  
“I was thinking you would never show up.” His mom exclaimed the moment he got to the living room, even though she was in the kitchen. He stopped at the door, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. There was a paper box labeled kitchen on top of the table, and his mom and her boyfriend were taking things out of the box and placing them on the right places. Catelyn bossed him around, sometimes saying where the thing went and sometimes just pointing at it, and Ned obeyed her every command, his forehead frowned as if he was trying to really learn where everything went. “Go help Jon.” Robb wanted to kiss her cheek for not saying your brother. “His books are too heavy.”  
  
“Fine.” He held the urge of rolling his eyes – his mom hated when he did that – and turned back to the living room. Any teenager would probably make a scene about sharing a room forced, but Robb had gone through his phase of teenage tantrum, and that was when his father left. They fought all the time, Robb wanting more freedom than what he really deserved, always pushing too hard. They stayed like that until his mom got her new job as an army doctor and things started to get back on track again. Robb wasn’t proud of it, but he believed that if they got through that, they would get through anything. Which included, apparently, a new dad and a new brother.  
  
The minute he turned his back to his mother, he hit something – someone. Harder than he expected, and the air left his chest for a second. He couldn’t even recover from the hit before something fell on his foot and he had to hold in a string of cuss words because his mom was near enough to hear. “You… Crap.” Was all he managed to say, stepping back and looking around the floor. There were a bunch of books scattered (who the hell needed so many books anyway?) and… A boy, well, Jon, of course it was Jon, on his knees. In front of him. Exactly in front of him. His mind seemed to forget the rest of the world around him existed in the first place. Hell, who could blame him? He was seventeen years old, his favorite thing in the world was sex. He wasn’t attracted to Jon, he hated the man already, he was attracted to anyone who kneeled before his crotch, expect maybe for his mom and his sisters. Maybe? Jesus, he was already out of his mind. He grabbed his foot, murmuring a soft “Ow.” While Jon kept putting his book inside the box again.  
  
“What are you doing staying in the middle of the door?” He asked, his voice came out rough, but his fingers were holding the box too frailly. If that thing fell on his feet again, Robb was going to set those stupid books on fire.  
  
“What are you doing not looking where you’re going?” Robb replied, holding the urge to push him. He closed his hands into a fist, and tried to move from the door and into his bedroom. It was their bedroom now. He didn’t like to use the word literally, because it was never truly literally, but he so fucking literally hated everything right now.  
“Can’t you stop complaining and help me with my stuff?”  
  
“Hm, no, fucktard.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes at the stupid request. As if he was going to help that fucking intruder to get settled in his house. Okay, maybe he was throwing a tantrum. But it was a mental one, so he deserved some points. At least he wasn’t throwing his book on other people’s feet.  
  
“Robb!” His mom said from the kitchen, and he wanted to punch the smirk out of Jon’s face.  
  
“Fine, I’ll help him!” He replied, grabbing the box out of his hands, his body complaining from the sudden weight.  
  
He shifted the box on his hands, wondering probably for the fifth time in the minute why the hell he needed so many books. The weight wasn’t that big of a bother – it was the fact he was being forced to help him. He climbed up the stairs, holding the box firmly. He wasn’t fond of the idea of repeating the downstairs accident, and threw it on the floor when he got to his- their bedroom. His body hit the bed before Jon could utter another plead for help. He accidently laid down on top of his clothes, because he was using the chair a few minutes before, so all of his clothes were in the bed, and he didn’t have the time to move them to the chair again. He shifted on top of his jeans, slightly uncomfortable, but didn’t make any other move to change it. Jon grimaced at his mess, and Robb arched his eyebrow, daring him to complain. He rolled his eyes and began to put the things in their places. Slowly. He arranged his book on a free shelf of the closet, and kept changing the orders, as if it mattered.  
  
“It’s meant for clothes, you know.” He said, putting his hands on the back of his head. “Not books.”  
  
“I don’t have a bookstand, prick.” Jon replied without looking at him, taking a step back from the wardrobe and looking at his books. Jesus fucking Christ, Robb thought. They are just books.  
  
“Buy one then! You’re not putting your clothes on my side of the closet, if that’s what you’re thinking.”  
  
“Well, that won’t be a problem, will it, because all of your clothes are tossed into your bed.” He said, finally looking at him, but just enough to point at the mess Robb was hiding with the better part of his body. And then he turned back to his books. “And I had a bookstand. But it didn’t fit here, so I had to sell it.”  
  
“That’s not my problem.” Robb replied in a mumble, crossing his arms. He couldn’t see Jon’s face, but he was pretty sure the other one was rolling his eyes. Finally, he seemed to be happy with whatever arrangement he had done with his books, and moved to his bed, sitting on the naked mattress and pulling another box. He was about to place his lamp on the side table when he noticed that they were no room for him there.  
  
“That’s our table.” He said, slowly.  
  
“No, actually, it’s mine.” Robb gave him a smug smirk, not moving one inch to get his stuff off Jon’s side of the table.  
  
“It’s ours now.”  
  
“No, I don’t think so.”  
  
Jon let go an exasperated sigh, and put his lamp on his bed, before pushing Robb’s mess until it only occupied half of the place. He placed the lamp on the table with such strength he worried for a second that he had broken the lamp. When it became obvious he didn’t, he moved to plug it in.  
  
“Why do we need a lamp? I don’t have a lamp.”  
  
“Because you don’t read.”  
  
“I don’t want a lamp on my table.”  
  
“It’s on my side of the table.” Jon kept putting his stuff on top of it, as organized as he did with his books. His charger. A cactus – really, who even have cactus? – and a pack of cigarettes.  
  
“You are so not smoking in the room.” Robb said, getting the pack and throwing back at him. They stared at each other. He was about to throw himself at Jon’s throat, and he had the feeling his new brother was thinking the exact same thing.  
  
“Fine.” Jon snapped.  
  
“Fine.” He replied, arching one eyebrow.  
  
How far away was college again?


	2. I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?

He hated his new bed. Jon shifted all night, trying to find a good position for him to fall asleep. He couldn’t help but think the new house sucked – it wasn’t the truth, some of the things were actually much better then what he had in his old place, but he was still bitter about moving. He couldn’t even bring his bed, that had to be some sort of torture. Every moment he spent on his new place he was convinced his father was trying to punish him for something. First, it was the bookstand. Then, the bed. Now, his stupid new brother who was also his roommate. Jon seriously thought he rather share a room with the kids than with Robb.  
  
He shuffled again, turning his back to the other bed, as if that would make him forget he was sharing a room, and staring the wall, trying to be comfortable on the strange mattress. When he finally closed his eyes again to go back to sleep, his alarm set off. “Crap.” He murmured, and he heard Robb say something in the same manner under his breath. Jon turned his back to the wall, and began to sit up, slowly. Rubbing his eyes and stretching. Robb, however, didn’t seem too eager to move.  
  
“You going today?” He asked, as nicely as he could. And then he realized. The running on the hallway, the screams of the girls probably fighting about something. He couldn’t quite make out the sentences, but he heard shower, mine, first. He got up in a second, getting the first clothes he could find in the box and running to the hallway. Robb’s steps followed him, crashing into him in the door. Jon didn’t even care so much about getting on time at school – he was failing, after all. On purpose. Failing anyway – he just didn’t want to be the last one to shower. “Get off.” He said to Robb, pushing him with his elbow, stepping towards the bathroom door. Sansa held Arya by the waist, trying to find a way she could enter it without letting her sister go first, and Bran was almost reaching the doorknob.  
  
“Oh, no, you won’t.” Robb said, pushing his little brother. Bran, apparently, decided it was useless to fight his usual older siblings plus a new older brother and turned back, complaining until he slammed his bedroom door. Jon thought Arya could get to the same conclusion, but apparently, the little girl was extremely determined to win it. He sighed, remembering that, by this time, back at his own house, he would be already getting out of the shower, because his hallway wouldn’t be a fucking battlefield. He slipped out of Robb’s grip, and opened the door, getting inside the bathroom and locking the door before someone could force the door open.  
  
He laughed to himself when he heard Robb swearing at the other side. The girls had accepted their defeat and were probably back at their room, but the boy wouldn’t give up. “I won, douchebag. Get over it.” He yelled through the door, and stepped away laughing when Robb punched it and told him to go fuck himself.  
  
While he was in the shower, he allowed himself to relax. Fuck that there were four people in line for shower. Fuck that he was probably going to make everyone late. They should have more bathrooms, that’s the truth. He used a shampoo that wasn’t his and a soap that wasn’t his. They could wait as much as he wanted to for him to shower.  
  
“It’s all yours.” He said when he got out, pointing at the door while he finished fixing his arms and picked his backpack. Robb didn’t even care to answer – he just entered the room and slammed the door. Now he knew where Bran had learned that. He was, however, the second one to get downstairs. Arya was already there, eating her cereal with a grumpy face, apparently already dressed for school. He sat on her side, dropping the bag on the floor and reaching for a sandwich.  
  
“So I’m going to Gendry’s house today after school, yeah?” She said, looking over at her mom.  
  
“Who’s Gendry?” His father asking, confused. “Is he your boyfriend?”  
  
Arya sighed as if she was completely exhausted of hearing that question every day of her life.  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re friends. Best friends. So, mom” She said, emphasizing the word so much Jon grimaced at the burn. “Can I go?”  
  
“Back at dinner.” Catelyn replied, pointing a finger at her.  
  
“Whatever.” She said, rolling her eyes and getting up, leaving her dishes on the sink. “Can I take the bus?”  
  
“Robb’s driving you.”  
  
“No one is even ready!”  
  
“I’m ready.” Jon said with his mouth full of cheese and bread. He cleaned the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at Arya. She rolled her eyes at him, and that strangely made him feel part of the family.  
  
“I would have been ready for hours if new kid hadn’t thrown himself in the shower.” Robb said, appearing in the door. He grabbed Jon’s sandwich from his plate and starting eating it, apparently not minding that was only half of it. He reached for it – there was not he was going to let him have his breakfast – trying to get it back without dropping it to the floor, but Robb was faster, rising his arm way too high for Jon to get it sitting down. He was about to get up and slap it out of his hand when both of their parents called their names. However, no one seemed to want Robb to give him back his sandwich.  
  
“Prick.” He murmured to himself, getting himself another sandwich. Less than twenty-four hours in the house, and he already felt tired. He missed his place. Hell, he missed Chicago. He had his friends there, his school. His father dragged him to California because of his job, promising they wouldn’t stay more than one year – until he met Catelyn and decided they had to marry. Yes, maybe he was being a baby about it. He was failing school on purpose, getting answers wrong even though he knew what he was doing, skipping class and making quite an effort to be suspended. He was about to be kicked out of his old school before he moved here, and now he would have to do everything again. He sighed to himself, hating his life a little bit more. Sansa finally appeared, and she filled the kitchen with her perfume. She sat beside Robb, who was in front of Jon.  
  
“Theon’s coming to see us today, mom, we’re going to the beach.” Robb said, finishing up Jon’s sandwich. “Can he sleep over?”  
  
“What is he doing leaving college in the beginning of the week?” She asked, putting a hand on her waist, the stern tone in her voice made Jon want to apologize for skipping so much class. Robb, however, seemed unaltered, and just shrugged.  
  
Jon, however, was happy about the news. If Robb was going to the beach for the afternoon – going to the beach on a Monday, for God’s sake, Californians were really weird – it meant Jon would have the room to himself. All day. No snoring, no fighting, no trying to move his things. Solitude. Jon actually smiled at the idea. Until his father went ahead and ruined it.  
  
“Jon could come with, couldn’t he?” He said, looking at Catelyn as if he needed her opinion to stay alive.  
  
“Yes, he could.” She said, with a grimace. Her oldest son was mimicking the grimace, looking at Jon as if having him on the beach would be literally the worst thing in the world. Jon, surprisingly, agreed with Robb for once. Going to the beach was already terrible. Going to the beach with Robb & company seemed even worst.  
  
“I don’t think…” Jon started, shaking his head slightly.  
  
“C’mon, Jon, you have to make friends!” His father insisted, and Jon looked at him gloomily.  
  
“I will if you give me phone back.”  
  
“You don’t deserve your phone back.” Ned replied. He was spending way too much time with Catelyn. God. He decided to take away Jon’s phone because he got caught smoking in school grounds. Really. It wasn’t even the worst thing he had done.  
  
“Yes, but what if Robb drowns? I’ll have to save him by myself! He will die, dad. Just ‘cause I didn’t have my cellphone.” He tried his best to keep the sarcasm off his mouth. He really did. And it worked. With his dad. Robb, however, kicked his ankle, and Jon hissed his response, kicking his right after it.  
  
“He’s right.” Catelyn said, slowly, aiming Jon as if supporting him was a really hard choice. Eddard looked at his son, who had a sly smile on his lips, his fingers craving for his long lost cellphone and all the texts from his Chicago friends he was missing. He took the cellphone off his pocket and handed it to him. So fake good intentions did work.  
  
“You had it in you all these time? Seriously?” He asked, getting up before he could changed his mind. When he was heading for the bathroom to brush his teeth, he heard Sansa’s word.  
  
“I have a cellphone too.”  
  
The class was torture – as it always was. But it was even more of a torture because he had most of his classes with Robb. And even though he hated to admit it, he sat close to him. Robb was the only person he knew in the school, and Jon wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to be lonely. He liked to be alone, but not lonely. Never lonely. And he was really fucking lonely in that school. So he held to what he knew. Even if that meant holding onto the prick he now had to call brother.  
  
He had lunch with Sansa and her friends. Man, they talked a lot. He couldn’t even follow. Sansa was completely different when she was around her friends. Maybe because there wasn’t her older brother’s shade over her, but she seemed more loose. More happy. When the girls started talking about their boy crushes, she kept quiet. She probably didn’t want him to hear and go and tell Robb. He wouldn’t tell, of course, but he didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of her knowing his crush too – not that he had one. Jon wasn’t even interested in having on. It was going to be solo for him, at least until he graduated. And then he’ll be out of this hellhole and into college.


	3. I hate the beach but I stand in California

Robb loved California, he hadn’t really gone to other state and okay, maybe Disneyworld was better than Disneyland, but he still loved his home. They lived by the beach, it was mostly sunny – whenever people in New York were complaining about freezing cold and snow, all he needed to do was throw a sweater before heading to the sand. But of course, Jon seemed impossible to be happy about it.

“Do you have to be so depressive all the time?” Robb asked, stopping at the red sign, and looking at him using the mirror. He was looking at the window, his sunglasses down, but he could still see how grumpy he was just by the way his mouth was twisted.

“I hate the beach.” He replied, without shifting his head to him, but eyeing him from the corner of his eyes. He came back to the window in a few seconds, sighing to himself. Robb rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a bum- Oh my god, that’s my song.” Sansa lost her focus in the middle of the sentence, reaching for the radio and turning the volume up, smiling like a child in an amusement park.

“Is that One Direction?” Jon asked, grimacing. “God.”

“Thank you, Jon.” Robb said, agreeing with him for the second time in that day. Miracles do happen.

“Shut up. They’re cool.” She defended, staring at both of them. When she looked at Robb, she flickered her hair, smirking. “And you, mister, even hum to their songs. Don’t think I don’t hear it.”

“Not my fault they’re catchy.” He mumbled, parking the car on the sidewalk and turning off the radio by switching the key. “You called Theon?” She got off the car before answering, bending so she could look at him again, probably just so she could give him the are you dumb look she was right now.

“I texted him. We’re meeting in the usual place.”

“How come do you know what place is the usual place? It’s the fucking beach.” Jon said, getting off the car and slamming the door with more strength than necessary. He had almost forgotten he was sitting quietly in the back seat. Good times. Too bad they didn’t last. Once Robb was out, he glared at him. “What?” He kept going, defensibly. “What’s the reference? Palm tree and the ocean?” No one answered. Sansa just rolled her eyes, obviously already tired from her new brother’s sarcastic complaining, and Robb, well, Robb was tired from the moment he heard of Jon’s existence. Robb took off his shoes, tossing them inside the car trunk before stepping into the sun, already taking off his shirt. Sansa was already in her sandals, probably wearing bikini under her dress, and had her hair high in a bun. He looked back at the other one, and noticed that Jon was not dressed for the beach. He was mimicking Robb’s movement, sitting down to take off his shoes and socks, mumbling to himself about something. The boy looked completely out of his place in California, when he was indoors. Out in the beach, near the sand and the ocean and all the tanned people running around and laughing, well, he seemed even more out of place. He was a wrong stroke in a painting. With his black jeans and a leather jacket thrown over a black shirt (what was his deal with black?), he contrasted with the rest of the picture. Everything was bright and sunny, and there was Jon, looking as if he hated everything. It was even interesting.

Once Robb realized he was moving, he turned his back, and started heading to the place where he and his cousin used to meet. The sand was uncomfortably hot under his feet, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Jon, however, swore every two seconds. The moment he opened his mouth to complain about his endless complaining, Sansa interrupted him.  
“You’ll get used to it. And what the hell are you doing with this jacket?” Yes, she could have said fuck, but Sansa didn’t swear. “You shouldn’t be even wearing a shirt.” Robb chuckled when she headed for him, pulling his jacket from his shoulder, completely ignoring his complains and forcing him to take it off. He even stopped walking to admire the scene, laughing more as Jon tried to push her away.

“You’re not taking my shirt off!” He exclaimed, holding down his shirt and glaring at her.

“Oh, but I will.” Robb replied, heading towards him and tugging on the fabric, forcing it upwards, his hands brushing on his abs. Jon, however annoyed he wanted to sound, was smirking, even though he was trying to push Robb’s hands away. He even laughed a little, and Robb would never admit it, he laughed a little too.

“Fine, fine, I’ll take it off!” He exclaimed, pushing Robb one last time before pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it at him. Robb smirked, throwing it over his shoulder, over his own. His eyes focused on his torso, his smirk growing bigger as he looked at his abs. Not as tanned and maybe not as defined as other Californian boys, but maybe that was the point. He wasn’t California. He was straight down Chicago. He coughed to himself, as if the sound would make him come back to reality, and looked away.

“C’mon, they’re right over here.” Sansa said, excited. Her quick steps threw sand at their legs, and Robb started moving right after Jon. His eyes kept slipping to his now bare chest, as if it was attracting him. He was incredibly pale. He even got worried about him getting sunburns.

“Really, man.” He said, waving at their friends. “Do you even know what sun is?” Jon glared at him, and then his expression soften when he looked at the rest of the group. He even tried to smile – tried to, because his teeth didn’t appear.

Theon was there, a sly smile on his lips while he nodded at them, his eyes lingering at Jon for a little longer. Margaery was lying on her towel, with her sunglasses and she waved at them with her usual smirk.

“Where’s Loras?” Robb asking, sitting on the sand and looking around. Margaery’s older brother always drove them back to their town whenever they felt like skipping class. It was only half an hour, anyway.

“He brought a friend.” Margaery said, sitting on her towel so Sansa could occupy the space by her side. Jon stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before he decided to sit down to, as far from Robb as he could. Theon moved inches closer to the new kid, offering his hand.

“He brought Margaery’s ex.” He barked, laughing before turning to Jon again. “I’m Theon. I’m the cousin.”

“Please.” She said, arching one eyebrow enough so you could see it over the edge of her glasses. While she talked, Jon said his name and shook Theon’s hand, smiling slightly. “I was his fake girlfriend. He just came out.”

The group looked at the two men, who were inside the ocean, splashing water on each other and laughing. Robb couldn’t see Loras’ face from the distance, but his curls were easy to see. He got up, patting the sand off his shorts.

“I’m going in. Anyone? Theon?” He asked, looking at him, arching one eyebrow. The boy took his time to look at him, lowering his glasses before smirking. Theon loved to smile, even when there was no apparent reason.

“Sorry, pal. I’m going to stay here.” He brushed him off with his hands, as if it didn’t matter. Robb frowned, but shrugged in the next second. He turned around, heading to the ocean – he needed to feel the sea in his skin. It was Theon the guilty one about making him like the ocean so much. He was the one who insisted to go to the beach with him when they were little, and while Robb liked sandcastles better than swimming, Theon always won the battle. And they were best friends, he just had to. They still were best friends.

When Robb got back, with his hair so wet he could see the water dripping when he shook his head, Jon and Theon were talking close. Really close. Robb sat at Sansa’s side, shaking his hair so it would wet her. In response, he got a slap from Margaery.

“Stop bothering your sister.” She said, sounding way too much like his mother.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked, ignoring her and looking at his cousin and Jon. Theon was laughing way too much at something Jon said – he couldn’t even be that funny. Robb had spent at least 24h with him, and he didn’t say one thing that was truly funny.

“Oh, Jon was just talking about basketball.”

Robb narrowed his eyes at Theon, who looked way too excited about it.

“You hate basketball.” He said, slowly. He always had to take Bran to the games, because Theon never wanted to go with him.

“No, I don’t. Shut up.” He replied, glaring at him before smiling back at Jon. Robb grimaced, sulking at both at them before being poked by Sansa.

“What?” He growled. He shouldn’t have brought Jon. Stupid Eddard, wanting Jon to have new friends and be happy in fucking California. Let him have friends, but not his friends. Not his best friend.

“Can I use the car twice a week?” She said, gently, as she always spoke, but those words were all it took to make Robb snap out of his best friend drama and focus on his sister drama.

“What? Why? No!” He exclaimed, shaking his head again. He always drove Sansa around – his mom seemed to think that Robb was the most responsible because he was older, so she liked it better when he was driving everyone to places instead of Sansa doing a few rounds herself – and maybe that was the reason why he felt the car was his and not theirs.  
“You don’t even know why.”

“Fine. Why?”

“Margaery is going to teach me how to play the piano!” She said, smiling widely.

“But she has to go to campus. I’ll just pretend she’s a student there and we’ll use the music room.”

“You’re studying music? I thought you were a law student.” He asked, frowning at the brunette, who rolled her eyes at him.

“I study music for a year now, Robb. Try to keep up.”

He was about to reply when he heard a loud laughter, and he couldn’t help but look at the duo, and sulk again.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said brushing her off, and ignoring Sansa’s question. He had to weight the pros and cons before answering, and he couldn’t do that right now, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how Jon and Theon seemed like best friends. And how fucking white Jon’s skin was. Did the boy even know what sun is? That was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. He shouldn’t even be here. “Hey, Theon.” He called, a mean smirk on his lips. This wasn’t his best moment. Actually, it was definitely in his bottom three moments, but he couldn’t help it. “You have to take it easy with Jon.”

“Why?” Theon asked, genuinely interested, while Jon just glared at him, frowning his forehead, as if he knew he would do something bad.

“He’s a stranger to this land.” He leaned closer to his best friend, covering his mouth with his hand as if he was whispering, but he spoke loud enough to everyone to listen. “I don’t think he even know what Sun is. Or water, for that matter.”

He could see Sansa rolling her eyes with the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. The annoyed look on Jon’s face was completely worth it.

“Shut up, Stark.” He growled, moving a few inches away from him, and consequently, from Theon.

“I mean it. I don’t even think you know what the sea tastes like. Do you even know how to swim?” He provoked. Jon didn’t answer, but he got up. “What? You’re leaving? Already?” He said, clicking his tongue against his teeth, in a cheeky laugh. He got no words in return, again. Jon was walking towards the sea.

“You don’t have to be such a prick.” Theon said, but he was smiling – he was always smiling – and shaking his head. “He’s really nice, actually. And pretty.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care if he’s pretty. He’s kinda my brother.” He pointed out, looking at Jon from the distance, as he walked slowly into the sea. Weak. Couldn’t take a cold shower for life.

“I care.” He said, giving his typical dog laugh. Theon would fuck anyone – regardless of what they had being their legs, as he liked to point out. Pansexual, Robb thought he heard him saying once. “You think he likes boys?”

So it was worse than he thought. Theon didn’t want to be Jon’s friend. He wanted to fuck him. Maybe he should let him. Then Theon would be the prick he always is with people – fucking them and then pretending they never even mattered – and Jon would stop trying to steal him away from him. Robb wouldn’t date Theon on a million years. He knew the bastard too well to even consider it.

“I don’t know.” The words came out before he could stop them, going against the line of thought he had going on. “I don’t know!” He repeated, pushing Theon’s shoulder. “You think I care about that boy’s sex life?”

“Robb, Jon is…” Theon started, shifting on his sit and trying to see further into the sea.

“What?” He probably sounded exasperated. He didn’t care what Jon was doing.

“He’s fucking drowning!” He got up, and Robb followed his movements, running to the water. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If Jon got hurt, his mom would fucking kill him – she might not like him, but he was sure that she didn’t like the idea of her new step-son dying within a week of living together. Stupid kid. Freaking stupid kid. The water was cold, and the sun had dried his body almost completely, but he didn’t stop to bother about the temperature. He kept on going, the water touching his thighs and then his waist. He had to fight against the waves that came crashing down onto him, sometimes letting a few water enter his mouth because he was too busy looking for the black locks of Jon’s hair. Jesus fuck. He tried not to be so selfish to the point where he worried more about the lecture he was getting from his mom when they got home than about Jon’s safety, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long would he have to hear about this.

He started swimming when the water hit his chest. He was good at this. Living in California and having a best friend who’s obsessed with the beach had its perks. He closed his eye to keep the salty water from hurting his eyes, going up for air and to make sure he was in the right direction every now and then, getting to Jon and pulling him up. He was pale – paler than he normally was, of course, if you could call that normal – and seemed about to black out. He held him against his chest, and by the way he got loose in the minute he found some real support, he supposed he just let the blackness take over his eyesight.

After a lot of dragging and pulling, and more ‘fucks’ that he would tell his mom and more slips than he would like to admit, he got to the shore, dropping the boy with more strength than necessary. He tried to remember the process that the lifeguards taught him when he was twelve, but it was hard. He never needed it before. His friends were never stupid enough to drown. Not that Snow was his friend. He climbed on top of him, his brain shutting off any thought that wasn’t relevant to saving him – like how he shouldn’t be doing that because it would look weird or how nice his fucking pale abs were or how pretty his hair was – and focused on pressing both of his hands on his chest, trying to get his heart back on track and the water of his lungs. He pushed it, three times and waited for a sign of movement on his chest, but there was none. He tried again, pressing harder this time, as if he would force his body into working. Nothing happened.

“Fuck.” He murmured, leaning forward, tilting his head back and holding his nose on his fingers. Robb took a deep breath before placing his mouth over his, exhaling the air he was holding into the other’s mouth, pulling away and looking at his chest, expecting to see it moving. He moved closer one more time, almost touching his lips again, when Jon began to cough.

Jon look at him, all wide eyes and frowned eyebrows, as Robb pulled away from him in the exact moment he realized he was indeed breathing, still feeling a twist in his stomach for the previous position they were in. Jon was breathing deeply, couching and cleaning the corner of his mouth with the back of his hands, his eyes closed again. His lungs were probably on fire. Robb tried to calm his own heart down, and stared at the sand instead of his step-brother’s chest.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Sansa asked, sitting beside Jon and looking at him as if he was a fragile bird who just fell from the nest. It was the first time since he saw the stupid kid drowning that he remember that there were other people with them. Jon nodded, sitting up.

“Thanks to your brother.” He murmured, his voice husky, looking at Robb. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile. It looked wrong on his face, especially when it was directed to him, but it felt nice. Robb smiled in return, getting up and offering his hand to help him get up. Maybe Jon wasn’t that bad.


	4. I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck

Jon could say things were getting better. He was still flunking his senior year in purpose, in some kind of protest, but he had to admit school wasn’t that bad. He found his own group of friends so he didn’t need to follow Robb around all the time. His friends acted a bit like criminals, he thought. Of course, if he said that in front of Ygritte, she would smack him in the head and tell him they were anarchists. Jon was still struggling to understand the difference. And his father’s girlfriend didn’t seem to hate him that much anymore, so that was good. Jon Snow being an optimist. That was new.

And he and Robb were getting along better. Well, they still fought over the bathroom, and over his books, and over Robb’s wet towels on top of the bed, and over the way Robb was so fucking messy with every single thing he owned, and over basically everything. But he couldn’t completely hate someone who saved his life. And who sat on top of him, shirtless and practically kissed him – to push the air back into his lungs – but still some sort of a kiss. Jon might be pansexual, but he never truly thought about Robb. Not like that. On the other hand, his cousin was really interesting.

That was the main reason things were getting better. Theon was a blast. Yes, he didn’t saw him much since that day in the beach, but they had been texting non-stop since then. Smiling at his phone like a fucking child who just got some candy. From the moment he woke up to the moment one of them fell asleep, too tired to keep on pressing the screen to form words. It was pathetic. Or nice. Probably both. He had just been on a date with him. And they didn’t fuck.

He didn’t know what the hell California was doing to him, but it was weird. Not bringing them to his place and fucking them on the first date? He had to be losing his game. And all he could was smile.

Robb entered their room when he was smiling at the air. He looked confused.

“Hey, Arya said Theon stopped by when I was in the shower, did you see him?” He asked, frowning and sitting on his bed. Jon moved on his seat, looking at him and trying not to look guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It was just a date. Even though Theon had told him how he and Robb were best friends for the best part of the last decade. Sometimes best friend could be more jealous than boyfriends.

“Hm, yeah. Yeah, I saw him.” He replied, in a slow voice. “We went out.” Robb seemed satisfied with the answer, since he shrugged and was about to lay down and forget about it. But then he frowned again, looking at Jon as if he was the worst human being alive.

“Just the two of you?” He asked, accusing him. Jon rolled his eyes. It was starting to get on his nerves. Of course, he had to test his luck. He couldn’t let Jon not hate him.

“Yeah.” He said, sitting up and staring at him, frowning his forehead as well. “We went on a date.”

“A date?!” Robb repeated, as if he having a date was the most impossible thing to ever happen. “Why did you go on a date with him?”

“Because he asked me to, fucker.” He got up, ready to leave the room. He remembered why he hated sharing the room so much. There was no way he could go there to be alone and quiet – Robb would always be there to bother him. So he would go to the living room and stay almost alone and almost quiet, but it was better than staying there and putting up with Robb’s shit. However, the other one seemed extremely determined in making him put up with his shit. Robb got up, getting between the way of him and the door.

A sigh escaped his mouth before he could do anything about it. Jesus Christ. Yes, he was wrong. He did hate his step brother.

“Get out of the way.” He said, pushing Robb’s shoulder with one hand.

“Why did you go on a date with him?” He pushed him back, using way more strength than he did, making him hit the edge of the table. Jon stared at him, angrily, but also considering his options. He could throw a punch or two, but Robb was the kind of guy who could kick his ass without even sweating. Jon hated sports, while he seemed to love it, and the difference was evident on the boys’ muscles.

“Because he asked me.” He replied, moving away from the table, trying to make his way out of the bedroom, but Robb stopped him again, taking a step forward and forcing Jon to back down.

“I doubt it. You’re lying.”

“I don’t fucking care if you think I’m lying.”

They were close. Jon could feel his breath against his skin, and how angry his eyes looked. Threating, even. He only hoped he looked threating too, because boy, he was pissed. Robb had nothing to do with his life. He didn’t get a say. And he was pretty sure he didn’t get a say on who Theon went on dates with either. Jon stared at him, clenched jaw and hands turned into fists, waiting on the side of his body for the command to punch someone. The anger ran through his chest as if it was blood. Robb was staring down at him – he was a few inches taller – looking all superior, as if he was a king. He hated him. He hated him so much. How could even think for a second they could stand each other, let alone be friends? He was being dumb. He was just feeling lonely and he grabbed the easiest idea of friendship, even though he knew it would end up bad. At least he didn’t even let him start it.

He was about to raise his hand and punch his nose when Robb moved forward, reaching for his face, but not for a punch. He held his face, moving his lips closer to his, and all Jon could think was… Well, he couldn’t think. Maybe that’s why he kissed him back. Because he wasn’t thinking. They started slowly, not even daring to slide a tongue inside the other’s mouth, just tasting each other’s lips. Time stood still as Jon’s hands opened again, forgetting the anger that made them clench into fists, and he relaxed his jaw, opening his mouth slightly and letting his tongue enter Robb’s mouth.

And then the clock began to tick again, and they began to move. Robb’s hands moved from his face to his shoulder, sliding down his back to stop at his waist, pulling him closer to him. He shouldn’t be doing this. They shouldn’t be doing this.

Jon put one hand on the back of Robb’s neck, letting his fingers drown in his hair. His tongue explored his mouth, in a not-so-hesitant pace, kissing him with such eagerness anyone would think that he wanted to do this for the longest time. Robb, however, kissed him with the same intensity, even though he was more grabbing and feeling – while his hands were in his ginger hair, Robb’s were in his ass. He even had to tip toe a little bit to get in a nice height, and the space between the two beds was too small for them to kiss and move without hitting a frame or the table, but they couldn’t care. Jon’s thigh hit the bed and he moved forward, forcing Robb backward and making him hit it himself, falling onto the mattress. A little groan escaped his mouth and Jon smirked at the sound. Robb laughed, and it wasn’t like Theon’s laughter. It was softer, deeper. It sounded way nicer now, and Jon couldn’t tell if it was because his tongue were just inside that mouth or because he wasn’t laughing at expense of him. He smiled wider when Robb raised his torso, just enough so he could reach him, slipping one finger inside his belt loop and pulling him closer. Jon took off his shirt before complying to his silent request.  
When they kissed again, he tried not to think. Because if he did a list of pros and cons, the cons would fill an entire page and the pros would be probably totalize three: his hair, his kiss, his hands. Anyone would tell him he was stupid of kissing his step brother. And would tell him he was even more stupid for kissing him so fucking eagerly, as if he was everything he ever wanted. It wasn’t only stupid, it was wrong and it didn’t make sense. But it was good. Fuck, it was good.

When Robb’s hands moved to his waistline, he forgot about the wrong part. They weren’t really related. They were roommates. People hook up with their roommates in college all the time, don’t they?

Except they weren’t in college. Except they were roommates because their parents had married.

When he started to unzip his pants, he tried to remember himself why it didn’t make sense. Yes, they hated each other. Maybe they never really did hate each other and were just playing pretend and oh fuck, his hand were on his crotch. His mouth searched for his again, kissing him even more eagerly, teeth clanking and heavy breaths, while his hands playing around his back. He got lost in the middle of the kiss, as if he unlearned how to do it just because of Robb’s hands on him.

And then there was a knock on the door. Robb got up almost instantly, hitting Jon’s bed in the process.

“Stupid new bed.” Robb murmured, as if he had forgotten that the stupid new bed belonged to the person he was making out with seconds ago. Jon pulled his pants up, zipping it again. His hands went straight to his hair, trying to fix it while Robb moved to the door.

Jesus Christ. He had a boner. He pulled Robb’s blanket over his waist so fast he didn’t even know he was capable to move that way, trying to peek without moving too much to see who was on the door.

It was Arya. He stared at the small girl at the door. He looked at the boy behind her – much taller, probably older – shirtless. She walked in, pushing her brother out of the way and walking towards the wardrobe. He gaped, looking at Robb in search of an explanation, even though he looked even more outraged than him.  
“Why is Gendry shirtless?” Robb asked, frowning at his little sister. She was opening the drawers, messing with Jon’s shirts. He grimaced. Being messy ran in the family, apparently. That could be a turn off. He moved on the bed, putting his hands over his crotch, trying to think about things that turned him off, but it seemed pretty impossible with Robb standing so close to him. Stupid small bedroom.

“Long story.” She replied, holding up one shirt in front of Gendry’s chest and deciding it didn’t fit.

“We kinda broke into someone’s pool.” Gendry said, showing his soaked shirt in his hands. Jon finally noticed his shorts were wet too. Good. Hot shirtless stranger completely soaked in his bedroom, plus an angry Robb – whose hands were on his… He couldn’t possibly do this. “And Arya’s place was nearer so we came here.”

“And I showered and changed.” She completed, throwing one of Robb’s shirt to him. “But Gendry didn’t have any dry clothes, so.”

“So you’re just going to steal from me?” Robb complained, trying to take the shirt away from Gendry’s hand, but he was already putting it on.

“You want some shorts too?” She asked, already looking for the place where Robb kept them. Jon didn’t own any shorts. He looked at Robb, picturing him in pants. He doubted the boy even owned a pair of jeans, being so Californian and beachy. He imagined making out with him while he wore pants. Or no pants at all. He had literally no control. Robb, as any other normal person, noticed he was being stared at and looked at him, arching one eyebrow, what made him feel even worse. Or better.

Gendry took the shorts into his hands – Robb seemed to busy chuckling silently to even bother to get it back – and left the room, Arya following after him and closing the door. Robb closed the wardrobe, slowly. Jon was still lying on his bed.

“So, are they dating?”

“Who?” He asked, starting to lower himself onto his bed, but they changing his mind and stand up. Jon rolled his eyes, moving uncomfortably once again.

“Arya and Gendry.” He replied, while Robb chose his bed to sit down. Jon sat up, and they were sitting across from each other, talking as if they were good friends and they did not just almost fucked.

“Oh. No. No, Arya says they’re not.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Yeah.” Jon coughed, looking at the table and at the mess at Robb’s side, as if it was legitimately the most interesting thing in the whole wide world. Robb stared at the floor, passing his hand on his hair more times than it was possible.

“So we…”

“Don’t.” He cut him off. Jon fronwed at him, starting to protest, when Robb stared at him, eyes wide. “Do you have a fucking boner?”

“What? No!” He defended himself, covering it with his hands once again. Robb started to laugh, throwing his head back as if it was the funniest thing on Earth. “I fucking hate you.”  
“Your dick says otherwise.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re such a turn off.” Jon mumbled, throwing a pillow at him, aiming for his head. Robb held it before it him, throwing it back at him. He was still laughing, even though he seemed to be calming himself down.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, his body apparently accepting that the moment was over.

“We need to talk about it.” Jon said, slowly, looking at Robb. Not at his eyes. At the loose curl on his forehead, at his cheek, anywhere that wasn’t his eyes.

“Your boner?” He asked, chuckling.

“No!” He was starting to hate him again. But now, there was a new feeling with it. The I want to stuck my tongue in your mouth feeling. The one that made his stomach twist even though he was not even looking at his mouth. The feeling that made him want to shut Robb up – but he wouldn’t mind doing it with a kiss.

“Look, let’s just forget it.”

Jon bit his under lip. Yes, they could forget about it. He was good at it. He did it all the time, usually he was the one that said it, but he could still do it.

He just wasn’t sure if he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, unfortunately, that's it for the year. I'm going away to a place with no internet until January 5th, but I will try to have a few chapters ready by the time I get back.  
> Have a merry Christmas and a happy new year!


	5. It feels like we only go backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back. This chapter came out really short, I'm sorry - I literally couldn't write a word in the trip, so I had to finish it now.  
> Next one will be a little different, but that's for later.  
> I hope you like it and that you had nice holidays <3

Robb hated Jon. He did. He hated how he was always tidying up the room, moving his stuff as if he owned it, because apparently he knew better. He hated how he was always complaining. If it was sunny, he would complain. If it was raining, he would complain. There was obviously only one person in the world that complained about the lack of cold weather – and he had to end up with that person as a roommate. He hated how he was always texting Theon. The idea of him having inner jokes with his best friend made his stomach twist. The idea of him not telling Theon about how they kissed made it twist even more. Yeah, Theon never really dated anyone and he was sure he was fooling around with tons of people in college, and apparently, Jon worked in the same way. He wanted to forget about it – but he didn’t expect to be forgotten about so quickly. He wasn’t used to it.

(He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was needy, and Jon was there. Only Jon was there. He just knew that before he could even say no to himself, his lips were pressing against his. Kissing him like an idiot, not even using tongue for the first seconds. When the tongue did come in, he knew he had lost the game.)

And he hated how he was in the team. It didn’t make sense. He was short, he was skinny. He wasn’t born for football. He would be fucking crushed.

“You know you just made the team ‘cause Viserys got hurt, yeah?” He asked, knowing his tone made the words sound pretty bad – and they were already bad on their own. They were in a bookshop. Bran had to buy a book for school and of course, Sansa would drive, and of course he couldn’t just let her walk off with the car on her own, and of fucking course that she invited Jon. He stopped looking at the book on his hands and looked at Robb. He arched one eyebrow, in disdain, and didn’t say anything. Of course he wouldn’t say anything. Jon was quiet, and gloomy. He could be replaced by a dark cloud and no one would ever notice. He was boring. Fucking boring.

(When Jon pushed him in the bed, he knew that, no matter how wrong and disturbing it was, kissing him was good. He never kissed someone like that.)

Robb narrowed his eyes at him, his jawline clenched. He knew he was staring at him, but the only person actually near them to notice was Sansa – and she was on her phone, her fingers moving so quickly she could probably win a prize, if they gave prizes for texting. She had already looked all the fantasy books, and those were the only ones she cared about.

He kept looking at him. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t even staring anymore. Not a bad kind of staring, at least. He was handsome, the fucker.

(When he took his shirt off, it looked even better than it did on the beach. As if it was possible, because he knew it was the exact same thing that he saw a few days ago. And he could lie to himself that it was because of the lighting, or the fact that it was closer, but it was complete bullshit. It was because he was taking his shirt off for him, but because he wanted to do it. Robb didn’t have to ask, or even take it off himself. Jon wanted to do it. Jon wanted him.)

“Lost something here?” Jon asked, coming off rude, but Robb could notice the small crooked smile on his lips. Jesus. They were starting to know each other.

“Shut up.” He replied, sulking at him and getting a random book from the shelf, only to put it back in place once he realized it was a self help book. “Where the hell is Bran?” Jon shrugged in return, not even bothering to look around, and Sansa ignored him, with her eyes on her phone screen. She had been using her phone quite a lot in the past few days. He sighed, and began to search for his younger brother, looking between the selves in the school session. It didn’t take long to spot it. He was one of the shortest there. Fortunately, he already had the book he needed in his hands. “C’mon.”

It didn’t take long for them to be back in the car. Robb took the wheel, and Sansa didn’t see to mind, but she did sit on the passenger seat. He didn’t know if he was glad because Jon was further from him that way, or if he wasn’t, because he wanted him closer. That was something he couldn’t deny. He was trying to ignore the feeling on the pit of his stomach. The weird, annoying feeling of wanting to touch someone and not being able to. He had a lot of facts that helped him ignore the feeling. Jon was still boring, and extremely annoying. From time to time, Robb even felt like punching him. So it was easy. It should be easy. Just because he had touched his dick, it didn’t mean he had to like him.

(After Jon left the room for showering, all he could do for about five minutes was stare at the wall. Forget about it. If his life was a movie, he would be the jerk asking the person he just made out with – in an amazing, eager and too good to be true way – to forget about it. But he knew it was for the better. Forgetting about it was the only way to make it end well. Any other alternative would end up with one of them fucking it all up. Incest, or step-incest, if that was even a thing, was not a good thing to do, he knew that. But when he looked at Jon’s book collection, standing so neat in the wardrobe, that it was meant to hold clothes, and not books, he didn’t get annoyed. He thought it was cute.)

The ride home was excruciating. The traffic was a literal hell, because of the time, and the car was way too full for him to feel happy. He sighed, placing one hand on his forehead. Bran tried to read his book – out loud – while Sansa kept saying he should stop, otherwise he would feel nauseous. And Jon was there, sitting behind him, his head leaning against the window as he was in a music video. Robb could see him using the mirrors, and his eyes wandered to him every once in a while, because he couldn’t help it. A part of him hoped that he would caught Jon staring at him, but he didn’t. Not even one time, he was looking at him.

(When he got back, he seemed to really have forgotten about it. He was smelling incredibly good, and was already completely dressed. He had probably hanged up the towel where it should be, unlike himself, who always forgot and tossed it on the bed. He didn’t look at him while he put his shirts in the place they belonged and closed the wardrobe door. They kept quiet. Robb was waiting for Jon to speak, and Jon didn’t seem like speaking. They would pretend that it had never happened. He had asked for this. He could deal with it.)


	6. She keeps me warm

Sansa still felt anxious when she was driving alone. Excited, yes, but anxious. She was always anxious. She felt as if everything was a car accident waiting to happen, and hitting the road was even scarier than staying inside the town. But it was for a good cause, and she didn’t exactly believe that Robb would be leaning to drive her to the campus every twice a week – she didn’t even know if she wanted him to go with her.

When she left the house, it seemed calm. The calmest it had been since hurricane Snow hit, or maybe even before that. Her mom was the happiest she had seen her in a long time, and even Arya wasn’t being such a brat – at least not in front of them. As if Eddard was a guest and she had to behave while he was there. Even Robb and Jon seemed to be getting used to the idea of sharing a room for at least the rest of the school year. Instead of acting like seven years old who just had been denied candy, they were acting like they were friends, or at least trying to do that. They wouldn’t look for each other to hang out, but at least they weren’t instantly sulking the minute the other walked in the room.

She put the key on the ignition, but checked her phone before starting the car. Her friends’ group was filled with messages. The first ones were Daenerys talking about her brother, saying he was being kind of a douche now that he couldn’t leave the bed because of the broken leg. Dany would never say her brother was being a complete douchebag, even when he was being one. And he was always being one. The most recent ones were Jeyne talking about boys. Those talks used to be Sansa’s favorites, it always worked to put a smile on her face. But then Joffrey showed his true colors, and even though she didn’t like to swear, she couldn’t help but call him an asshole. Just the word boys made her stomach twist. She was tired of high school crushes. She even understood why Dany had that older boyfriend of hers – even though he seemed a bit scary. Boys their age were stupid and mean.

And there was something else. She had heard enough of her friends and she had seen Jeyne hook up with random boys at parties more times than she could count, but she never felt the urge to do something like that. She couldn’t imagine herself kissing someone she just met, even when they were hot and nice. She just didn’t feel anything in her gut. Jeyne sometimes would come off mean and tell her she’s being a prude, but Sansa knew for sure she wasn’t – the minute she realized she had an actual crush on Joffrey, all she wanted to do was make out with him. Glady, she found out what kind of person he was before she did that.

The drive to the campus went better than she expected – every time she went, she felt herself building up a little more confidence. She even allowed herself to turn on the radio and tap her fingers on the wheel. When she did got there, Margaery was already there, with Theon by her side. She got off the car and smiled at both of them.

“Little sis!” Theon said, grinning his usual crooked smile, hugging her before she could even mouth a hello. She looked at Margaery during the hug and smiled at her, a small chuckle escaping her lips while the other girl shook her head.

“Is Theon coming with us?” She asked, frowning her forehead at the boy, taking a few steps back so she could see the whole picture. Her eyes wandered at Margaery and she couldn’t help but smile again. They had been texting non-stop since they started hanging out. Well, except for when Sansa was in class – she wasn’t good at breaking the rules.  
“Yes. Until I get my Intel.” Sansa spotted her rolling her eyes with the corner of hers.

“Your… Intel?” She asked, following them towards the music room.

“He wants to know about his boyfriend.” Margaery said, sounding vicious, laughing right after it.

“He is not my boyfriend, Margaret.” He said, putting some emphasis on her wrong name, throwing one arm around Sansa’s shoulder. “So, how’s Jon?”

“You’re dating Jon?” Her voice came out more shocked than it was polite, but she couldn’t help it. She knew Theon was gay – it became pretty obvious since the moment he went to college – and she knew Jon wasn’t that big of a straight guy himself, but she never thought of the two of them together.

“We’re not dating, didn’t you hear me?”

“They’re fucking.” Margaery said, entering the room and holding the door open to the both of them. She was wearing a dress, just like Sansa, but hers had flowers all over it. Sansa blushed at the sound of the word, her eyes shooting at the ground for a few seconds before going back up to their faces.

“Yes. We’re fucking.” Theon said, grinning again and letting go of her to sit on one of the chairs. “And talking. A little bit.” He finished.

“A little bit?” Margaery asked, fast as a whip, arching one eyebrow in a look of disdain.

“Oh, shut up.” He said, while Sansa sat on the piano’s bench. “Or I’ll find out who’s your little girlfriend too.”

Sansa blushed again, and her wide eyes went straight to Margaery, who seemed unaltered, her mouth twisted in her usual smirk. Luckily, Theon was too busy mocking her to notice his cousin.

“Baby, you have no idea.” She whispered, shaking her head and laughing right after it. He rolled his eyes, turning back to Sansa, who had already returned to her usual color.

“So, he seems off. He’s not properly texting anymore.”

“So clingy.” Margaery said, in a tone that was almost a whisper.

“Shut up. You think something’s up?”

“I don’t… I don’t know, Theon.” She replied, slowly, testing her words. “I don’t talk to him that much. I mean, if you like him…”

“No. Jesus. Let’s not go that far.”

Sansa looked at the older girl for help.

“He wants to fuck someone else and he doesn’t know if that’s alright.” She said, in her usual straight forward way. That’s the thing about her – Sansa would never be able to tell when she was lying. She was always so sure of herself it seemed impossible to anything to be a lie.

“Oh.” She murmured, nodding with her head. “I mean, I don’t know.” I never had a relationship, she wanted to add. “Shouldn’t you talk to him?”

“Jesus Christ.” Theon said. He got up, shaking his head while Margaery laughed her usual soft laughter, leaning against the piano and looking at her. He walked from one side to another, exasperated. “Can’t someone give me a different advice, please?”

“I still don’t understand why can’t you just hook up with both of them, like you always do.” The brunette said.

“I… Look, this guy is different, yeah?”

“Then just fucking talk to Jon!” Margaery exclaimed, rolling her eyes at her friend.

“You two are helpless.” He gave up, shaking his head once more before walking towards the door. He stopped at the doorstep, waving at them before leaving and closing it behind him.

“I could never imagine him with Jon.” Sansa said the minute he left, shifting on the bench so she could sit by her side. The piano was still closed, so Margaery was able to lean her elbow onto it and not make any noise. She supported her chin on her hand, her head slightly tilted to the side, eyeing Sansa as if she was scanning her.

“I could imagine Theon with anyone.” Sansa giggled before she could help it.

“It’s just that Jon is so… Gloomy, you know?” She frowned at her own words. She didn’t use to gossip like that. Or at least, not with Margaery. It was usually with Jeyne, and they were younger and sillier. “He’s always sulking. And Theon is always so vibrant.”

Margaery frowned too, thinking, but when she spoke, Sansa realized she was just calculating her words.

“It’s an act.” She said, slowly, not looking at her for the first time in the conversation. “He’s not that happy, not all the time at least.”

Sansa nodded, getting uncomfortable all of the sudden. Theon always did look happy, but she didn’t see him at the bad times – and she didn’t even know what his bad times were. She saw him when he and Robb did a week long sleepovers, and he seemed happy, but of course, it’s easy to be happy when you’re in a sleepover with your best friend. She knew that. She knew she was good at hiding too.

“Look, you didn’t worry when Theon said I have a girlfriend, right?” She asked, and even though her eyes seemed troubled, she was as straight forward as she always was.  
“What?” Sansa murmured. “No, of course not. I mean, I know you like gir…”

“Because he thinks you’re my girlfriend.”

“What?!” This time, she came out a little more exasperated. She knew what she heard – there was absolutely no way she could have heard that wrong – but she still couldn’t believe. Sansa wasn’t even a lesbian, for God’s sake. Margaery seemed a bit shaken off by her reaction, but she got her control back so fast that she could think it had been just a mirage.

“Not you you. But he knows I’ve been texting a girl all day long for a couple weeks, and, well you’re that girl. But he doesn’t know it’s you.” She assured her again.

“Oh.” She mumbled, barely making out the sound. She looked at the older girl, in a different way now. Not thinking about how she was a girl and she was also a girl, but thinking about how much she liked her. Margaery was gorgeous – that was undeniable. It wasn’t conventional beauty, but maybe that was what made her look even better. And she was sweet. She treated Sansa better than most people did, she didn’t act as if she was a naïve little girl just because she liked romance and fairytales.

Margaery frowned, looking disappointed, and she couldn’t tell if it was Sansa or at herself.

“You’re straight?” She asked slowly, her face losing the so particular smirk for a few seconds.

“I don’t know.” Sansa murmured, and she was being honest. She never thought about it, and know that she did, it didn’t seem so impossible. She nodded, looking at her. Her forehead was a bit tense, and Sansa could almost hear her brain working.

“Jesus.” She said, relaxing her expression and laughing quietly, placing her hand on her temple.

“What’s funny?”

“I thought I had fucked up again.” Margaery whispered, but she heard her perfectly. They were close enough for that. It made her chest hurt, the way Margaery said that. She wanted to ask her what happened before Sansa even dreamed of meeting her. She wanted to know.

“You didn’t. I just… I never thought about it.”

Margaery leaned in for a kiss.

And Sansa knew that this wasn’t wrong. After all, she was tired of boys of her school – but maybe she could be tired of all boys. Girls were sweeter and kinder, or at least, Margaery was. And she was pretty. And she fancied her. That should be enough, Sansa knew that should be enough. But it wasn’t. When she leaned in to kiss her, a part of her wanted to kiss her back, but another one – a bigger, winning part – told her she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t pin point exactly why, but she knew she wasn’t ready. She knew someday she would be.

“Not yet.” She muttered, in some kind of a plea. For her not to give up waiting. For her not to leave. Margaery nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Let’s play some music then.” She said, her voice still a bit shaken, but not sad. No, not sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to update regularly next week, but I've been going through a rough time, so I might not post it on Saturday, sorry  
> and this chapter was a little different, please feedback!


	7. Your mess is mine

There were times that Robb really hated football. Playing in the team since his sophomore, he had tons of good games and bad games – and he was still a sore loser. But this wasn’t what made him hate football. It was the way he couldn’t get out of bed the day after practice, because his back felt like an old man’s one. It was the way he felt as if his lungs didn’t properly work anymore. It was all the bruises that covered his arms and his ribs, and those were only the ones his teammates gave him. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen in a real game. He always wanted to rip the adversary apart, and he was pretty sure that they felt the same way about him. And then the coach would give an inspirational speech, and he would fucking love football again, and he would be completely ready to go out there and win the fuck out of any game.

And even though sometimes he hated football, even though there were days all he wanted to do was skip it and just go home and take a nap he wasn’t supposed to be taking – because those were the best kind – but he would never truly do it. He always showed up. He always gave his best. He fucking took one for the team, just like the rest of them. Even Viserys sat there, with a cast on his foot and his sister sitting by his side, watching them running from one side to the other of the field, as if his presence would help them. He put more effort in the team than Jon, who actually was on it.

He barely showed up, only once a month, and since his coach were completely insane and did about four times a week practice – he really did want to win – one time a week meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. But apparently, coach Lannister didn’t want to win hard enough, since Jon was still in the team and every time Robb mentioned it to him, he brushed him off, as if it didn’t matter they were lacking one player. But if Jaime wasn’t going to do shit about it, he would solve it himself.

Sansa was in the couch when he walked in the house, slamming the door behind him. It was the first time in weeks that she didn’t reach for the car key the minute he dropped it on the table. He frowned at her, stopping in the middle of his step for a few seconds, before getting back on his way. Sansa was alright, and she had her friends to talk to. She wouldn’t open up to her older brother – no teenage girl had any interest in that.

He dropped his backpack on the beginning of the stairs, knowing that this would get his mother to say the same thing she had said a hundred times to him, and he wouldn’t listen for the hundredth time. His legs burned more each step he took up the stairs, and he could hear the murmur of a song playing on the hallway. When he got to the top of it, he realized the music was blasting inside of the room. He knew it couldn’t be Bran’s – he and Rickon were in the garden, playing with the neighbor’s kids, the Reeds or whatever – and well, Bran didn’t even listen to that kind of music. He spied through the girls’ open door, and all he could find was Arya and Gendry sitting on the floor, her with a laptop on her lap, staring so deeply at the computer’s screen he could only guess that they were watching a movie. He thought they didn’t notice her, but after a moment, Arya was flipping him off. He laughed, shaking his head and moving away from the door, not closing it. He wasn’t the type of guy who let his little sister alone in a closed room with an older boy. There was only one option left, since his mom and Ned were working.

A chuckle escaped his lips when he noticed his bedroom door shut. When they weren’t both inside the room, they normally let the door open. Unless… Well, unless Jon was jerking off. That would explain the loud music. No one with normal hearing would be able to recognize a moan through all that screaming. His hand rested on the doorknob for a few seconds before pushing the door open, slowly, doing his best to stop it from creaking.

From all the possible scenarios, he did not imagine this one. He knew this was happening, he wasn’t stupid, but he felt pretty stupid. He furrowed his eyebrows, his breath becoming shorter as his anger grew bigger. He didn’t feel tired anymore, and the burning through his body wasn’t from all the exercise anymore. His muscles, which were ready to relax the minute his body touched the mattress, were already tensed up, his hands closed into fists, his lips closed in a thin line. He didn’t know why he was so fucking enraged. Because Theon was there, on his knees, Jon’s cock pressing against the back of his throat and making him gag? That would be reasonable, even though the meaning of the word didn’t exist on his mind on that moment. That would be reasonable if he was jealous.

He just stood there. Glaring at the both of them, each time Theon bobbed his head making his stomach twist. He felt fucking sick. Suddenly, Jon moved his eyes from the boy in front of him and looked at Robb. He rose the corner of his lips, in a cheeky smirk that made Robb’s body shook with the urge to punch that face of his. He was about to something. The song was playing way too loudly, and it made his head hurt. He wasn’t thinking straight, and he was about to step forward, and punch the first one of the two of them he could reach. And then Jon threw his head back, his hair moving along with it. He bit his lower lip in the dirtiest way possible, moaning from the back of the throat, one that he couldn’t hear properly, but it sent a chill down Robb’s back. He was still pissed. He could still break his jaw with his fist if it came to it. His whole body was still wishing for it to happen, his hands still closed up in fists. But Jon kept moaning. Kept holding Theon’s head down and rocking his hips, looking at him again. He didn’t have his eyebrow arched, but Robb could almost hear his thoughts. Challenging him. Calling him a jealous little bitch. I’m not yours, I’m not yours, I’m not fucking yours. And I dare you to try make me be.

He left the room, closing the door in the same second. Closing, not slamming it. For the first time in years, he didn’t slam his bedroom door. He didn’t want Theon to see him. He wished Jon hadn’t seen him. He pressed his fists against the wood, his forehead touching it too, and he closed his eyes, attempting at catching his breath. Attempting to erase the image from his mind, but his cock was already pressing against his jeans and he didn’t know if it was desire or anger that was pumping through his body. He bit his lower lip, chewing on his skin until it drew blood. His stomach didn’t stop twisting from the moment he saw them fucking.

Now that he knew they were there, he could hear the moans through the song. He opened his eyes – there was no use closing them. With them open, all he could see was the closed door, but when he closed them, it all came back to him. Jon’s face, his mouth open in a moan, the sweat appearing on his forehead, the way his hand held tightly on Theon’s hair, his bare chest. He couldn’t even see his dick, because apparently, he did deep throat. Robb groaned at the door, as if that would make the frustration go away. He wished it was him.

He jumped when he heard a door open, moving away from his bedroom’s, even though that wasn’t the one moving. His eyes shoot across the hallway, searching for the source of the sound, knowing fully well that his hard on was visible, and way too fucking pissed to care. Gendry passed by him, not daring to eye his crotch once he noticed, walking inside Arya’s room without even a word to him. Robb looked at the bathroom door and wondered how pathetic that would be. Before he could get to an answer (pretty fucking pathetic) he was already on his way. The music wasn’t so loud inside the bathroom, and he couldn’t even hear Jon’s moan anymore, but they were replaying on his mind. They still made his cock throb. Robb would make him moan like that, even louder, so loud music wouldn’t be enough to keep him muffled.

His hands went to his pants button, taking his time to open it, swearing behind his breath every time it escaped from his shaking fingers, the anger already thrown overboard, replaced by the burning urge to feel something at least close to what Jon was feeling. The minute he pulled down his pants, his red, glistering, hard as fuck cock bobbed right up against his belly, and all he wanted right now was Jon to have that moaning mouth of his over his cock, instead of fucking someone else’s mouth. He could see his precum on his underwear, and before his mind got over about how stupid that was, his fingers were already there, grabbing the most part of it in the best way he could, a guttural moan escaping his mouth when he stroke his erection, lubing it up, covering it, as if that would soothe the burn, fucking his own hand. He closed his eyes, but not completely, only enough so the real world didn’t seem like anything real. The scene he had just saw appeared behind his closed lids, but what filled his view was only Jon. His hands began to move in the usual movement, going up and down, sending chills through his own body, not even needing seconds to pick up his rhythm, his hips jerking forward without his consent. He leaned against the sink, biting his lower lip to avoid the noise, remembering the way Jon’s lips felt against his own, the way his body moved below him, against him. He grunted, his teeth letting go of the control they had on his lip, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it again. He grunted once more, throwing his head back just like Jon had done a few minutes ago, and the thought made his hand move faster. He even squeezed himself a little harsher than he should, hissing after the pain hit his body because there was no fucking way he would come so quickly just because he was thinking of Jon. But he kept twirling his fingers around his head, closing his eyes even more, if that was fucking possible, because if he didn’t see his hand work that it was easier to pretend it was his tongue toying with him, provoking him.

He moaned louder, not being able to contain himself this time, when it hit him. The sink supported all of his weight, because his knees forgot what they were good for and he lost his ground when the orgasm hit him. He didn’t know how many nerves there was in the human body, but he knew that they were all working non-stop, every inch of his body was pumping. He opened his eyes, looking at his hands covered with cum, his cock also dirty, and smirked to himself. His lungs were working to catch his breath again.  
He didn’t know how many nerves there was in the human body, but he knew that Jon got to all of his.


	8. Under my skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps: The most part of the chapter was made by my friend Giulia, she always helps me a lot with the story but this one was mostly her.

It didn’t change anything. Jon always did this. He did in Chicago, he did in California and he would still do it freaking China. It was his thing. He would fuck them, and they would give him their numbers and then both of them would text until Jon realized they were getting way too clingy and that maybe this relationship thing wasn’t really for him. And then he would just stop properly answering until they stopped trying to talk to him. He wasn’t proud of it, it was just the truth. And it never bothered him. And it still didn’t bother him – what bothered him was how he felt like he was doing it for Robb. He wanted to believe it was a stupid idea, but he knew it wasn’t. He had ended things with one person while he was starting something with someone else, but he never did it _because_   of someone else. And it felt a lot like he did it because of Robb. Stupid, annoying, too handsome for his own and everyone else’s good, Robb. He hated the idea that he was doing anything for him, but he couldn’t help the feeling in the gut of his stomach that he had just lost the game.   
  
Robb walked in the bedroom, slamming the door as he usually did. He was always knocking over things and talking way too loudly – the typical behavior of someone who thought they ruled the world. And sometimes, when Robb talked, you could really believe it.   
  
“What the fuck, man?” Robb asked, closing the door behind him. They didn’t even consider letting it open anymore. He was sweaty, and holding his shirt in his hands. Jon was about to answer, but he got distracted by his body. There were drops rolling on his skin, his gorgeous and, fuck, flushed tanned skin. Jon couldn't catch a tan for shit, but trust Robb fucking Stark to be wonderful at it. His chest was looking so, so, lovely he couldn't help but wonder if he licked his sweat off, tasted his salty skin, how much the red colour would spread, if Robb would tangle his fingers on his hair and sigh in that delicious way he always did when he is about to say something but sort of loses his trail of thought. He couldn't help but wonder if his sweat would taste as good as his lips, and the weight of him on his tongue, how he would feel fucking down his throat and if his come was as sweet as his laugh. He blinked a couple times, before moving his eyes to his face.   
  
“What did I do now?” He complained, and he hated the way his voice didn't sound like his own, but strangled like he was still a prepubescent teen.   
  
“Really?” He said, opening his arms, as if Jon needed more invitation to look at him. More reminders of the reason of why his showers were so long, always so fucking long, trying to spend all the frustration Robb made him feel when he was walking around the house almost naked all the time. And when Jon was, indeed, spent, the frustration just burnt stronger. “There was practice today.” Robb said, marking his words like a mother did to reprehend her kids.   
  
“Oh. That.” Jon murmured, nodding with his head. He could say he had completely forgotten about it, but the truth was, he ran away from it. He didn’t even want to be in the football team, but his college counselor got him inside, and to be completely honest, he was a bit scared of defying her. She probably scared the shit of the football coach too, and that’s how he got in. She was more invested in getting him into college than he was – he didn’t even care anymore, not for this year. He knew he would fail and have to do the senior year again, he was already getting used to the idea. He had messed up for too long, and it was already in a point of no return. He told Brienne that she could help with college stuff next year, but all he got in return was a deadly stare.  
  
“I mean, I’m not fucking happy that you’re in the team.” He kept going, dropping his – probably dirty and sweaty – shirt on top of the bed while he walked towards Jon. “But you could at least show up.”   
  
“I don’t like football.” Jon said, simply, knowing that explain everything would be too much trouble. Robb did not need to know he was failing senior year.   
  
“Football doesn’t like you.” He sat on the bed, next to him. Jon arched one eyebrow at him, giving up on the next second. He looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes – maybe because shirtless Robb being so close to him was not good for him. Maybe because Robb was in his, shit,  _their_ room and he was too close and not close enough. Jon couldn't, honestly, handle another unsatisfying snog, with his lips and his tongue and his hands and fucking stupid abs... But who was he kidding? He would become more acquainted with his left hand as much as he needed to if that meant Robb would still kiss him. And maybe get the fuck out of his dreams because, honestly, Jon hated having to wait and not be the first to shower in the morning because he always has a stupid boner when he dreams of Robb's lips spread wide taking him in his mouth.  
  
“I don’t like you.”   
  
He heard it before he felt it. Robb’s hands were on both sides of his head, even though the rest of his body was still in the same position, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the cheeky smile playing on his lips. Jon tried to fight the urge to smile back, but before he could control it, a smile was breaking through his lips. It was always like that. While Robb seemed to smile easily – the only person who had an easier smile was Theon – it was effort for Jon’s face muscles to form one.   
  
“You smell fucking disgusting.” Jon pointed out, shifting below him, in a half-hearted attempt to push him away, and just because he could. There was no way anything about Robb would ever be disgusting. He looked so, so dirty and all Jon could think about was lick him clean and then fucking wreck him all over again. Make him fall apart, sob, shiver and make the only sound coming out of his big - shit and so pretty - mouth his own name between moans.  
  
Robb chuckled in response, the little shit fucking chuckled and was already leaning closer to him to kiss him. Their lips touched slowly, not colliding or bumping, but just brushing against each other. Jon slipped his hand to his hair, playing with his curls, already closing his eyes again.   
  
Suddenly, Robb’s lips weren’t near him anymore, and he looked at him puzzled, until he noticed that he was putting one leg on each side of his body, straddling him and fuck, Robb would look so, so beautiful riding him. He didn't even have the time to be abashed by the adjective chosen because one second later, they were kissing again. The urge was bigger this time. He could hear their teeth clanking against each other, and they would shift their heads in a silent consent to find a better position every time it happened. His body was on fire, even though Robb annoying and gorgeous hands were still on the pillow, but he was still everywhere: on top of him, inside of him and maybe - just maybe - slowly making his way into his heart.   
  
His brain didn’t even try to understand why this was completely wrong. They were past this in a silent agreement – they were good on those – after it happened for a third time. It wasn’t worth a conversation, because a conversation would end up ruining it. And they would stop doing it, because talking about it made it too real and they would realize how wrong it was. They were pretending it never happened – except when it was happening. And neither of them wanted it to stop happening.   
  
Jon kissed his jaw, sucking onto his skin, knowing full well it would leave marks and being reckless enough not to care. He moved, half sitting on the bed, putting one hand on his waist and pulling him closer. Robb followed his movement, his hand reaching for his outer thigh, and Jon could feel his nails through the jeans. And his cock brushing against his belly, straining Robb's trunks while his body weight was a heavy pressure on his own neglected dick. Jon used his hand on Robb's waist to shift him, making him hump his crotch and they were both releasing agonized moans. It was like this time was impossible to stop, they couldn't contain the desire anymore. Robb's ass was against his boner and his muscular thighs around his waist and Jon was seriously considering banning the world Stop from ever existing in any language, type or form.  
  
They weren’t even on each other’s mouths anymore – while Jon kissed his neck, Robb went for his ear, as if stop touching was no option, not even if they needed to catch a breath. His hands moved, unapologetic, up his stomach and to his bare chest that he already knew so well. Before, they were getting to know each other in the sense that they would know what would make each other laugh. Now, they knew each other in the sense that they knew what would make the other moan. Robb bit down on his ear lobe, and a sigh escaped Jon’s lips in response. His fingers traced his collarbone, going to his chest again, and in a matter of seconds, he was touching his abs. He smiled easily in the middle of skin. He smiled fucking easily. Stupid abs. He was such a sucker for this abs. He shouldn’t be.   
  
"You may say you don't like me, Snow, but your dick seems to like me just fine."   
  
Jon grunted, shifting his head to grab his lips again, biting down on them and pulling before actually turning it into a kiss, effectively shutting him up. He moved his own hands to Robb’s pants, opening the button and pulling the zipper down. He didn’t use to be so touchy. Usually, he just let boys into his room and well, it wasn’t like teenage boys took their time to act. He was inside of them within minutes. The memory of Theon laughing about how he was such a bottom before actually fucking him filled his mind, and he kissed Robb more violently, moving forward to push him towards the bed. Maybe if he pushed Robb hard enough, he would push the memory away. He fell to his back on the mattress, and a dry laugh came out of his throat while Jon leaned over him. The minute Jon was close enough for him to do it, he placed his hands on his crotch, over his pants. Jon could almost see his hard on through his open pants, but his underwear was still hiding it. He knew that if Robb couldn’t see his, he could fucking touch it.   
  
“Are we going to fuck?” He whispered, closing his hands around his cock in the best way he could through the jeans. He whispered like it was a secret, and it was a good one. His voice sent a chill down Jon’s spine, and he couldn’t even master an answer that wasn’t a soft sigh. “Uh?” He asked, his voice a little louder, provoking him, his hand not moving from him and making his whole body tickle with expectation.  
  
Jon opened his mouth to answer, to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he changed his mind half way there, leaning closer and kissing him once more. He finished pulling down his pants, playing with the waistband of his underwear, a part of his brain recognizing that once one of them was completely naked there was no going back. Once one of them was completely stripped for his clothes, they would, indeed fuck. Because they had desire burning through every part of their bodies and they had been able to hold themselves off a few times, which right now it felt like a lot, because it was way too hard having what you want within touch reach but not being able to fully take it.   
  
"You're gonna take my cock like Theon did?"  
  
"What?" Robb was a bit confused, with unfocused eyes and blown out pupils.   
  
"I know you saw us." He said, viciously, clicking his tongue in mischief.  
  
"Yeah, I... Shit, Jon, do we really have to this now?" Robb said with a strangled edge on his voice at the end of the question, motioning for his own hard dick, straining against his boxers. Jon laughed, easy and open, biting his bottom lip in a - failed - attempt to contain his smile. He got out of bed, taking his underwear off and tapping Robb's hips so he would lift them up and he could take his pants off too. Jon was just about to get on the bed again when he stopped, transfixed by the image the Robb was right now. Spread out on the bed, curls everywhere, flushed skin and dark lips. He looked fucking obscene, cock hard and curved up on his belly, the head glistening from precome.   
  
“You have a pretty dick." Jon said before he could stop himself, and, oh, great, now besides making his dick fatten, Robb also could, apparently, completely delete his brain-to-mouth filter. He heard Robb laughing in return, clear and as beautiful as the sky. Jon thought he didn't laugh enough.   
  
Robb spread his legs wide, showing his pink, tight hole. Jon released a guttural moan before practically throwing himself at Robb.   
  
"You liked seeing me with Theon, yeah?" Robb just nodded in return. "Bet you jacked off to it. Now suck." He said, shoving two fingers inside of Robb's mouth and he, the fucker, moaned and made a show of it. Like Jon wasn't worked up already.   
  
His dick twitched at the sight of his pretty lips wrapped around his fingers, cheeks hollowing and spit coming out at the side of his mouth a bit, from how eagerly he was going at it. If he didn't come in the next fifteen minutes, Jon was going to have a seizure.   
  
He took his fingers off of Robb's mouth and pressed lightly at his warm entrance, just circling his rim and teasing him. Robb's hole tightened, fuck, even more, trying to catch his finger and pull it inside him.  
  
"Eager, are we?" Jon smirked.   
  
"Dickhead, are we?" Robb was being sassy, even though he looked so close to begging. Well, Jon had to change that. Even his smile looked dirty now, and that made Jon’s stomach twirl, in a good way. He placed one hand over Robb’s thigh and slip the finger inside him, slowly – almost in a torture way. He felt his thighs tremble behind his touch, while he closed his eyes and gasped. Jon shifted in the bed, moving closer to him, the need of being inside of him growing at each reaction his body showed, even when he didn’t want it. He added another finger, moving his hand in and out of his body, shivering at every low moan that Robb mouthed. He crooked his fingers slightly, trying to find Robb's bundle of nerves. When Robb's body went all tight, opened mouth and a loud whimper coming from his lips, he knew he had found it.  
  
"D'ya have lube and condoms?" Jon asked, because he sure didn't. He was actually considering going out to buy more today, cause all the fucking he was doing with Theon recently had ended his supplies.  
  
"No, _fuck, Jon, yeah, there. Keep going. Shit._ I thought you had it."   
  
"I could eat you out so you get nice and wet for me, huh? But I don't really think you deserve it." Jon finished his sentence emphasizing his words with a hard twist of his fingers, that sent Robb's spine all curved up, so pretty and pliant.   
  
"Oh, God."   
  
"I prefer Jon."   
  
"Shut up."   
  
"Make me." And he did. They kissed again and before Jon could think, Robb's hand was around both of them, keeping them together while their cocks rubbed and the friction felt so fucking good. He was so worked up he felt like crying.   
  
“Oh, fuck.” Robb moaned, a little too high, and Jon placed his other hand on top of his mouth. The ginger even opened his eyes to look at him, questioning, even though his eyes took a while to focus and the gaze didn’t even last long – in a few seconds, he had closed them again. Now he was rocking his hips too, and Jon couldn’t tell if he was looking for more friction on his dick or inside of him. The minute he groaned again, Robb’s hand shoot up to his face, hitting first the chin to then find his mouth, holding it closed. His moans came out muffled now, but Jon could still feel them against the palm of his hands, and he knew that Robb was feeling the exact same thing. He thrusted his fingers before he started scissoring them, and he was sure if he didn't have his other hand covering Robb's mouth, the other boy would have screamed.   
  
He knew he was almost there. His line of thought couldn’t even be called a line, because he couldn’t make sense out of anything. His cock throbbed inside of Robb's hand, and his body was feeling like it would explode. When Robb came, he was looking at him. He was staring at him, and he noticed how his body arched and how his face changed and how fucking hot he looked. There Robb's cum helping his movements, now, and Jon felt light headed. He came a few seconds later, biting down on Robb’s hands out of instinct, with a moan from the back of his throat that no one would ever hear. Jon could just barely hold himself upright for long enough to take his fingers out of Robb. Robb flinched, clearly oversensitive and still coming down from his orgasm.   
  
Jon over Robb's body, and they were both so fucking filthy, but, honestly, they felt like they couldn't bare the thought to move for at least a week. They slowly freed their hands from each others mouthes.   
  
“Jesus Christ, Jon.” Robb whispered, after a few moments of silence where neither of them wanted to break.   
  
“What?” He whispered.   
  
“You fuck with your shirt on? What a douche.”  
  



	9. If someone believed me

Arya was not a dumb girl. She knew what girls did when they slipped inside a bedroom in the middle of a party with a boy. She knew why they giggled at their phones while swiping through photos. She knew what the girls who messed with their hair and touched Gendry’s arm wanted with him – and sometimes, she wondered why she didn’t want that too. Of course, she got the appeal. Her best friend was incredibly handsome, or hot, how she heard the girls call him, but it still didn’t make her want to stick her tongue down his throat – or anyone’s throat, to be completely honest. She was a smart girl, and she could watch people’s behavior and even copy it, and she understood a whole lot of things, but she didn’t understand that.

“I just don’t get it.” She admitted, after a few minutes of silence while everyone was too busy with their food to bother to talk, splaying out her hands on the table, for the first time ignoring the plate full of food in front of her. Hot Pie – she didn’t even know his real name, he was Hot Pie from the moment she walked inside that building in the beginning of freshman year and he would probably keep being Hot Pie forever – was eating. The poor kid always ate as if he would never see food again.

“What?” Gendry asked, with his mouth full, not even worrying about being polite. He was even older than Sansa – a junior – and she would mock him for sitting with fresh man year kids at lunch, even though she appreciated when he did that. It made her feel important, or at least, worthy enough so he wouldn’t bother being mocked by his class mates. She held her fork between her fingers, playing with it before moving it to her mouth. Hot Pie nodded, as if he was repeating the question.

“That.” She nudged her head to the right, pointing at a couple that was eating more of each other’s face than the actual food.

“That’s Viserys, and that girl, Doreah.” Hot Pie said, cleaning the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I agree. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. I think it’s because the cast on his foot.”

“I think it’s because she’s friends with his sister.” Gendry pointed out, actually pointing at him with his fork.

“No, fuck, that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean… the kissing part.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Hot Pie asked, leaning over the table, seeming oddly judgmental.

“Have you?” She replied, defensive. She hadn’t, of course. Most boys seem to consider her “one of the guys”, and she wasn’t exactly the kind of girl that flirted, or even knew how to. It didn’t bother her until he said it like that, as if she was missing out on something.

“Gendry has.” He mumbled, and both looked at the older boy, inquiring.

“I- I mean, yeah, sure. I kissed a couple girls. It wasn’t that big of a deal.” He looked at her, as if she needed reassuring. “I wouldn’t do that with anyone.” His head pointed at the couple on the table next to them. She even looked around to see if there was some adult there who could make it stop, but the lunch lady didn’t seem to even care about what the students did after they got their food.

“It looks disgusting. All spit and tongue.”

“You only saying that ‘cause you never did it.” Hot Pie said, matter-of-factly.

“It is a bit disgusting, yeah.” Gendry remarked, a small chuckle on his voice. Arya smiled at him, victorious, arching one eyebrow at the other boy.

The rest of the day went by slow. Too slow. Sometimes, she really hated being younger. Yes, it was fun to have Hot Pie in the same class as her – especially when she felt mischievous enough to throw paper balls on his head from the back of the class – but she wished she could be in the same year as Gendry, and she knew that in a couple years she would be, but there wasn’t going to be any Gendry there, unless he failed. It made her feel frustrated. She was used to being lonely, until he came around and became her best friend, and now, she didn’t know how to be lonely anymore. And she didn’t want to learn again.

 

It look her long to get home. Not only because she and Gendry stopped to smoke before each following their path, but because she had no hurry to get home. He would have to work for his foster father, as he always did a few times every week, and since Hot Pie was normally too lazy to go out and meet them, she had nothing to do that afternoon – except, maybe, homework, but everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen. At least, Gendry promised he would stop by at her place after the work was done, and her mother didn’t seem to bother her bringing boys to her bedroom. Maybe she knew she would never do anything drastic. Sansa, on the other hand, was never allowed to bring that weird crush she had over. She was pretty sure it was because Joffrey was a complete psycho, but the last time she told Sansa that, she was grounded.

When she finally crossed her doorway, it only took one look around the living room to guess that everyone, if not for her mom and Ned, were home already. She sighed in relief, dropping her keys inside her backpack, knowing completely well that everyone in that room could smell the scent of cigarette stuck on her clothes, and she waited, cautious, for a reaction.

Sansa was sitting on the couch with a magazine on her hands, legs behind Jon’s back, since he left a big gap between him and the back of the couch, while the older boys sat one of each side of her. Jon was sitting on the edge of his seat, hands pressed together, and while Robb attempted to look relaxed, leaning in against the support, his leg was still moving almost obsessively. She looked at the TV, hoping it would be some kind of game or at least, something that made them being so nervous make sense, but it was on some television show for Rickon. Bran, apparently, was too old for the show, because he was focused on his drawing. So Jon and Robb were just being weird, like they had been acting for a few days now. Apparently, they couldn’t touch each other anymore. The minute they bumped into each other, they acted as if it was the most horrible to thing to ever happen in both of their lives, and they kept awkwardly trying to move away from each other without the incident happening again. Also, they were always looking at each other when they thought no one else was watching. And yes, probably no one was watching, except her, and they didn’t seem to notice. She still didn’t quite get if the look was a good look or a bad look, but she knew it was happening a lot.

“You reek of cigarettes.” Sansa said, eyeing her before going back to her reading. She peeked at her sister’s magazine, and it was a page about boys. She flipped through it without even reading, uninterested.

“You should shower before mom gets home and kills you.” Robb said, but unlike their sister, he didn’t look at her. Eyes focused on the screen, leg shaking, his fingers pressed tightly against the couch.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” She questioned, crossing her arms, with no other purpose then to annoy them. “Senior year, and all that? Winter break is coming.”

“Thanks for the reminder, sis.” He said, finally moving more than his leg for the first time since she walked inside the house, only to put his hand on his forehead, as if just the reminder of finals was the worst thing in the world.

“I’m not studying.” Jon pointed out, shifting so he could look at her, his back almost pushing Sansa’s legs.

“What do you mean you’re not studying?” Robb asked, outraged, before she could say anything. The way his forehead frowned gave the idea that he was _actually_ worried. “Don’t you wanna get into college?”

Jon shrugged, but he seemed apologetic. Embarrassed. Everyone in the house knew that Jon’s grade were bad – they just didn’t know how bad, except for Ned, and honestly, he never really talked important things with “the kids”.

The sound of a car pulling over in the front of the house made her get to moving.

“Fuck. I’m going to shower.” She said, and she barely heard Sansa telling her not to swear while she climbed up the stairs, two steps at a time. By the time the front door was opening, she was already slipping under the shower. Her mother would probably have her head on a spike if she found out her baby girl was smoking.

It was way easier to shower now that she had short hair. She cut more than half of it on summer break before high school. Sansa helped her do it, even though she kept murmuring that her hair was so gorgeous that it was a shame to cut it all. Arya rolled her eyes more times than she could count that day, but she was glad that her sister did it for her. It would never come out that beautiful if she had done it by herself, and her mother would never pay someone to do that to her hair, so she actually needed Sansa’s delicate touch. Everyone thought she hated her sister, and sometimes she acted like it, but she never hated her, not really. She was family.

 

Gendry was sitting on her bed when she walked inside the bedroom.

“What the fuck?!” She asked, jumping at the sight of him. She thanked the lord that she had dressed before leaving the bathroom, since she forgot her underwear more often than sometimes and had to cross the hall with only a towel wrapped around her body. This was not one of these days.

“Dad dropped me here.” He shrugged. Arya arched on eyebrow at him. Sometimes it felt as if she had to punch him in the gut to get more than a couple words out of him. “There wasn’t much to do in the shop.”

She sat beside him, quickly falling onto the bed, hands clasped together over her stomach, feet dangling in air because her legs were unable to touch the ground. Her wet hair would leave a pool in the middle of her blanket, but she didn’t care enough to move. Gendry copied her move, but she knew his feet didn’t leave the ground, and she didn’t even have to look to make sure of that.

“How’s things with your mum’s boyfriend?” He asked, in a low tone, hesitant.

“He’s alright. It’s just weird.” She murmured in response, not looking at him.

“What?”

“Having someone pretending he’s your dad.”

“Tell me about it.” Arya snorted her way into a laugh, even thought she felt she shouldn’t have the second later. Luckily, he started laughing too, chest shaking and dimples showing when he smiled. She put her elbow against the mattress and supported her head with the help of her hand, gazing at him. “What?”

“Who did you kiss?” It came out blunt, fast.

“You don’t know her.” He was quiet for a while, looking at her from below, one of his eyes partly hidden on the blanket. “Jealous?” A grin filled his lips.

“Curious.” She answered, pushing his arm with her free hand.

“About kissing?”

“Yeah. Everyone does it.”

“Hot Pie doesn’t.”

She smiled slowly, rolling her eyes.

“Everyone _but_ Hot Pie does it.”

“It’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

It was. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly, but there was something in her body saying that she had to try it before saying it was disgusting and unpleasant. She was sure that if she asked Sansa, she would give her some fairytale response of how her first kiss would be beautiful and magical, and that she would love it. And Arya didn’t want stories, and she didn’t want an answer like that. So she would have to see it for herself.

“Kinda.”

She had to try. And if she tried with a random boy at a party, something that she wasn’t even invited often, he could not stop when she wanted to stop. He could push forward, and she would have to kick him in his balls. And she knew they would talk, and she would become noticeable, and the last thing she wanted was attention – she had enough of that by being Robb Stark’s sister. Gendry was perfect. He wouldn’t talk, that was for sure. He wouldn’t try to push forward if she didn’t want to. He would let her try, and only that.

“I wanna try something.” She said, and then she wondered if she should have asked if it was okay, but then she had finished the sentence too long ago and a question would make it awkward, as if it wasn’t already. He nodded nonetheless.

Her body shifted on the bed, her elbow poking out in the air as she tried to find a comfortable position. She wanted it to go slow, but she knew that she couldn’t think about she was doing, because she would change her mind. Her hands were holding onto the blanket when she leaned over, pressing her lips together with his.

It was wet. The thought of sharing her saliva with him made her frown, and she hadn’t even tasted his tongue yet. She shifted her head, knowing that just lips touching wasn’t the whole deal. They had watched a lot of movies and on 90% of them, there was a couple kissing, tongue and all, or at least, making it seem like there was tongue and all.

Her lips parted, hesitantly, as much as she hated to hesitated. Gendry did the same, his big hands on her waist, pulling her closer almost out of instinct. They moved a little bit, their bodies and their tongues, his hand never searching for more of her body than her waistline, and her hands never even trying to touch his. Wet, weird. Was she even doing it right?

She moved away when she thought she had tried it enough. He was eyeing her, a playful smile on his face.

“That was…” She started, shaking her head, laying down again, finally resting her arm.

“Disgusting.” He finished it for her, laughing again, using the back of his hand to clean his mouth.

“Ugh, right?!” Her eyebrows shot up to express her point. “Never again?”

“Never again.”

She let out a relief smile. They could stay like this. Laying down in bed, just looking at each other and talking bullshit – her more than him, but still talking. They didn’t need to kiss. They could date without the making out part. Apparently, neither of them liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long! :(


End file.
